Schéhérazade

I saw this movie as a Russian speaking teenager in Boston, but it couldn't have been further away from anything truly Russian. I had already studied a lot of Russian music and dance and so was anxious to see a film about one of my favorite composers: Nicholi Rimsky Korsakov. I couldn't have been more disillusioned. The Rimsky Korsakov that I knew from pictures in books wore glasses and had a long beard though he could have looked a bit like Jean Pierre Aumont when he was young. He certainly was in the Russisn navy and did travel all over the world but his life was absolutely nothing like that portrayed in the film. Even so, that's Hollywood and it was enjoyable though hilarious. Eve Arden couldn't have been worst cast, though I always loved her witty remarks and wise cracks in all her movies. But as a Spanish Duena? And wearing a Mantilla? Really! Yvonne De Carlo was surely beautiful but a dancer? Never. And who on earth did her choreography? I understand dummying down choreography for non dancers to be able to do, (called sham dancing) but surely it could have been a bit more inventive than this. Then, low and behold, she is dancing as Prima Ballerina at the Bolshoi Theater no less. OK, when in doubt, use a tambourine. Forget that Scherezade (only in the Ballet Russe repertory and not until 1920) as a ballet was never given at the Bolshoi in Moscow until the 1980s. And as Prima Ballerina in this silly version, (not even in toe shoes) she meets Rimsky (presumably during intermission) on the front steps of the Bolshoi wearing wedgies in the Moscow snow. AND, who on earth was the kid dancing with her on stage? Was it her little sister or the grand daughter of one of the producers from a local dancing school? Neither one would be allowed to even set foot on the stage of the Bolshoi let alone dance, even back during that time; 1880 or thereabouts. Brian Donlevy strutting around in a dance belt, puffing out his bare chest. Is this what one reviewer here was referring to as homo erotic? I suppose so, for 1947, but he sits in a box at the Bolshoi where he wouldn't have even been allowed past the front entrance, cigarette and all. But actually, I really love this movie for all its silliness and somehow I even managed to get it on tape, possibly it was shown on TV back during the 1980s. It's time I take another look at it. Yvonne De Carlo went on to be a star on Broadway and of course as Lily Munster on TV. Jean Pierre later married Maria Montez. Could that be right??? An added note: Years later, while in Moscow, I saw a Soviet version of Rimsky's life. Much more authentic of course with wonderful actors and in gorgeous Soviet color but of course no equal to MGM's production values. I think it was just called "Rimsky Korsakov's Life". They also did one on "Mousorgsky" another Russian composer. That was during Soviet times. I don't think Russian film industry would attempt such films now.

Biography films are an odd genre; composer films are in a class by themselves. Facts are brushed aside blithely in this film. Korsakov was in the navy and wrote some music while aboard ship. That is the total agreement with history of this film. Add to this the vision of poor Yvonne De Carlo's out-takes of nearly falling over while dancing and you have one of the lamest composer movies ever. So why is this movie so much fun? I think it's the Viennese operetta feel of the piece: logic should never intrude on fun. And Eve Arden's dry delivery doesn't hurt either.

Does anyone recall whether it was this movie (Song of Scheherazade) that was "narrated" by a camel? Or am I mixing this up with another movie from the late '40s/early '50s era of that ilk? I definitely recall the lead actors, i.e., DeCarlo and Donlevy. Since I was just a kid at the time, and don't recall much else about the movie myself, except for the talking camel (if this is the correct movie!), I can only go by the fact that my parents enjoyed the picture and the high point for me was the camel making comments from an inset in the corner of the screen. My general impression on recollection is that it was fairly enjoyable and suitable for the whole family to attend even if the kids didn't really "get it". There must have been enough action, and of course the color photography was enough to keep the kids satisfied. Movies from the "olden" days are more clever, since they didn't have all that computerized gadgetry to work with yet got the neat-o special effects. It was a wonder in 1947 (to a kid, anyway) how they got that camel to TALK and put him up in the corner!

Rimski-Korsakov was a great composer who wrote much very beautiful music, especially his masterpiece, Scheherazade, which is featured in this fictionalized film about his early years as a Russian naval cadet (although he really was a naval cadet before he switched to music as a full- time vocation). Yvonne DeCarlo was an exceptionally beautiful woman, more appreciated for her outstanding beauty than for her acting which, nevertheless, was reasonably competent. That combination was good enough for me when I first saw this movie decades ago as a teenager, and it's still enough to let me enjoy it as an adult. If musical beauty plus feminine beauty are appealing to you, please treat yourself to this film. I do, however, wish that it was available as a DVD.

They don't make films like this any more, they really don't. A Russian training-ship wafts round the Mediterranean under the command of cigarette-swallowing martinet-with-a-heart-of-gold Vladimir Gregorovitch, who stalks the deck in bare chest and tight trousers closely inspecting his motley crew of sea cadets, among them wicked whip-wielding aristo Prince Mischetsky and opera hopeful Nikolas 'Nicky' Rimsky-Korsakov. Nicky and shipmate Klin the Singing Doctor rush ashore at every port in search of a piano. But in the Moroccan villa of the impoverished de Talaveras they get more than a heat-warped keyboard: they get a resourceful scheming mother and café-dancer-in-disguise daughter. The stage is set for a hugely enjoyable extravaganza of romantic melodrama, costumes as camp as they come, luscious set design, overripe orchestrations and homo-erotic undercurrents strong enough to sweep an aircraft-carrier on to the rocks (how did it all get past the censors!). Brian Donlevy (the captain) and Eve Arden (the mother) are incomparably wonderful; Jean-Pierre Aumont makes Nicky an engaging hero, and Yvonne De Carlo (daughter) earns the film its full 10 points by gamely battling through some of the worst choreography and hilariously bad makeup ever put on screen. It takes a real trouper to triumph as a convincing love-interest after having to make her first appearance looking and dancing like a duck in boot-polish (Hollywood's idea of a gypsy femme fatale...)